Search This Blog

A photo for St. Patrick's Day

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm here to report the Celtic Tiger is alive and well.

March 17 requires a photo of the quintessential Celtic tiger - Stephen Roche. This one was taken in the '83 Tour de France, his first. You've just got to admire the relaxed perched, split fingered hand position on the levers. The early vitus-carbon Peugeot too. I think this picture was the from the mountain TT to Morzine-Avoriaz. Best part is the fighting Irish snarl.

I did my best to imitate it this morning during six, all out 3 minute power intervals. Went to my absolute limit on each one. I didn't look anywhere near this good, but can relate to the expression. I've earned a pint today, off to the pub.

Happy St. Patrick's day wielersupporters. Slainte!

Get link

Facebook

Twitter

Pinterest

Email

Other Apps

Comments

Agree with your sprinters comments. When did you ever see Cippolini or for that matter Cavendish in a break! Pure sprinters seem to be a product of the last 10-15 years; riders who only win from staged team trains at the end of a race.

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Read with some amusement the other day that article about the advent of the $10,000+ road bike. 'Halo bikes' they call them.

Halo Bikes. Hallelujah, let the pigeons loose.

Ten to twelve grand for a race bike? Utterly ridiculous. On oh, so many levels.

It got me shaking my thick-mick head, and thinking longingly back to the good ol' days. The mid '70's, when road racing bicycles were all hand brazed, lugged steel tubing. Your wheel choice? Pick 28, 32 or 36 spokes. Grouppo? Either Campagnolo Nuovo Record, Super Record or maybe Shimano DuraAce. There were a lot of bicycle company 'brands' (e.g. frame designers, brazers and assemblers), but the basic ingredients were all about the same really. Funny thing was, guys still rode 30 mph on them, no problem. In fact, I think they could handle them a heckuva lot better in a peloton too.

And the best stuff, and by that I mean the bikes and technologies used by top professionals - even by win…

Welcome to the Wielercafe! This blog is the new home of my old blog, 'Flandria Cafe'.

After riding Race the Ras in Ireland back in 2014, my professional and personal life went into warp drive, leaving little time for blogging. Master's racing had to be shelved. The idea of commentary on pro cycling felt like another disconnected, inadequately informed voice weighing in. Figured I'd rather spend my spare time riding. Frankly, I ran out of things to say and just lost interest, so I took a break for awhile. Long enough for the Flandria Cafe registration to expire and someone else to snag it (!)

Since 2014, I've been flattered to have many friends and blog followers reach out and tell me they missed the blog - particularly the old-school cycling history stuff, for which my passion is still alive. In addition, some personal life changes, and some great cycling adventures with many friends who share our cycling passion have rekindled m…

Okay, so it's Thursday night, and we're all in a crowded hotel bar in Clonakilty. And I mean all of us. The real Ras is in the same hotel tonight.

There's a quite mighty craic. Alan bumps into Emma O'Reilly and gets caught up after many years, a world away from Boulder, Colorado. Paul chats with former Irish Olympian Seamus Downey, his wife, and their friends. Seamus tonight is the proud father of An Post rider Sean Downey, who's kicking ass and taking names in the Ras this year as the top Irish rider, sitting 6th on GC. They're reminiscing with anecdotes and memories of Paul's late dad J.J. Lots of the Race the Ras guys are here too, all having a great time. I'm sitting with Aaron and Brian McCormack, and we're enjoying that ever-so-perilous 'just one I promise' after dinner pint.

Slouching at stools at a high bar table next to us is a group of skinny, tan, clean cut and identically
tracksuited 20-somethings. Not a Guinness in s…

I started bicycle racing New England roads way back in 1976 when shorts were wool, helmets leather and $250 could snag that white Peugeot PX10 that was all you needed to jump in the pack with the best.
A half-decent sprint brought modest amateur success, earned me the nickname “Fast Eddy” and fueled an indelible cycling obsession - launching a lifetime in roles orbiting in and around cycling.
Top category amateur racer, founding member of New England’s most prestigious cycling club, product marketing manager for global cycling brands, European bike-biz veteran, creator and owner of one the coolest road-bike shops ever, occasional drinking partner of professional cycling champions.
At age 57 in my spare time I’m still an avid cyclosportive and cycling travel adventurer, and not mellowing with age.
A passionate cycling fan, I've collected just enough experiences to be dangerous. Warning for the politically correct: My world view on cycling and life is unapolgetically old-school, euro-centric, opinionated, and as hard-hitting Boston-Irish as a Dropkick Murphy’s soundtrack.